


you were simple once before (but it's not like that anymore)

by raginginsideme



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Child Abuse, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Internalized Homophobia, Poverty, a lot of cussing btw bc they do it on the show, i swear it's more lighthearted than it sounds, i swear its better than all the tags, just making sure all bases are covered
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-15 00:52:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3431990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raginginsideme/pseuds/raginginsideme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There was a chiming noise coming from the door, and Stiles lifted his head briefly to see who it was, before quickly ducking it again so they wouldn't see the blush blooming across his cheeks and ears.<br/>There was Derek Hale, the bane of his existence. Derek was the resident asshole of the South Side of Beacon Hills, always starting shit and stealing shit too. He wasn't afraid to point a gun at your face if you didn't do what he wanted, his huge family was basically the mafia, and he was also the hottest thing Stiles had ever seen in his life."</p>
<p>aka the Shameless!Sterek AU that no one really asked for starring Stiles as Ian and Derek as Mickey</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “You look like a fuckin’ Gallagher, with your big ass eyes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my second story on here and I really love both of these shows and I really love exploring what I can write with both of them. You don't have to watch Shameless to get exactly what's going on, all you have to know is that where they live is ina really bad part of town and basically everyone is under privileged so. yeah.  
> anyway, here's the shameless equivalents:  
> Stiles= Ian  
> Derek= Mickey  
> Lydia= Fiona  
> Isaac= Lip  
> Erica= Debbie  
> Carl= Carl (lmao sorry not sorry)  
> Liam= Liam  
> Laura= Mandy  
> so there ya'll go! hope you enjoy it!

Standing at the counter in “Beacon Quick-Pick” had Stiles wanting to kill himself. Not only had Erica had trouble sleeping last night (she was really fixated on the very real reality of death and it was freaking her out) but Carl hadn’t finished his homework yet, he had decided instead to tried to buy fireworks from the shady guy at the end of the street, which meant Stiles had to go down there and drag him by the collar back home. 

Baby Liam was teething lately too, so not only did he have to listen to Liam’s pained little cries all night, but he also had to keep reaching for shit that wasn’t toxic that Liam could safely chew on. Isaac helped out a little by talking to Erica about (his words) “Life and Shit” but then went off to study before he could really give a hand. Lydia had come in late from whatever “date” (hookup) she had been on and Scott had enough problems on his own without having to come over every afternoon to help Stiles out, so he had told him to just stay home and chill for once. Needless to say it was a stressful night.

So here Stiles was, blinking goddamn sand out of his eyes because his boss had to have him come in at five am. He could feel the bags under his eyes and he scrubbed a hand down his face to try to wake him up, but it didn’t help much.

No one even came into Quick-Pick (everyone really called it Shit-Stick) early anyway, there was no one in Beacon Hills who was sane and got up past eight or nine, granted they were probably hung over or tired or coked out from the night before.

So Stiles sat there for three and a half hours trying to catch up on the sleep he’d lost trying to take care of his siblings, half sleeping and half awake. It wasn’t like he was angry at them for being difficult, he was angry at Frank for leaving them high and dry, yet again, even though Frank never worked he was a good thief and if you brought him to the North Side for at least twenty minutes he always came back with pockets bulging of rich people’s cash.

Stiles wasn’t nearly as good at stealing as Frank (he always kind of felt a little guilty) and Lydia was the next best pick-pocket, but they hadn’t been able to afford the gas money to drive them up to the North Side, so they were waiting on Lydia’s, Isaac, and his paycheck before making the trip.

Erica or Carl were probably the next in line to start working, but Stiles was trying to work more overtime because while they needed the money, Erica was thirteen and Carl was eleven. Stiles had started working at ten (not major jobs, those started at fourteen) but that was back when even if they did have money Frank would steal it for drugs and booze so they’d have to try to scrounge up more by the time bills came around. They were a bit better off now, a little more on their feet, but even though they still desperately needed money he wasn’t willing to have the younger kids working yet.  
There was a chiming noise coming from the door, and Stiles lifted his head briefly to see who it was, before quickly ducking it again so they wouldn’t see the blush blooming across his cheeks and ears.

There was Derek Hale, the bane of his existence. Derek was the resident asshole of the South Side of Beacon Hills, always starting shit and stealing shit too. He wasn’t afraid to point a gun at your face if you didn’t do what he wanted, his huge family was basically the mafia, and he was also the hottest thing Stiles had ever seen in his life.

Derek had these huge biceps he always showed off in his Henley’s (whether intentionally or not) had this stubble that looked rough enough to scratch you up if you were making out (which stiles thought about a lot) he had tattoos covering up host of his upper arms, mafia related and family related, and he also had the most gorgeous eyes Stiles had ever seen.  
He’d only gotten a couple good looks at them, stopping before Derek noticed and threatened him (which was a high probability) but he had seen enough to know that were a combination of gray, green, and brown. 

So Stiles pretended like he hadn’t seen Derek walk in, while he tried to even out his breathing and remain calm. It probably wouldn’t help if he was hyperventilating in front of one of the most intimidating (and attractive) people in his life.

He heard Derek approaching the register so he sucked in a breath and stood up, trying to look as collected as he could. Derek had a cardboard box to hold all of his shit (as usual) and stopped at the register to pick up a couple pack of gum before raising an eyebrow at Stiles and turning away.

Derek intimidated his squirmy boss Jones enough that he just let Derek come in and steal shit from them, which always pissed off Stiles because if he was gonna steal why did he have to steal from the neighborhood? Yeah, he may have had a huge boner for him, but that didn’t mean he got away with any shit that he wanted. But, he was too tired to deal with it so he just shook his head and said under his breath, “Fuck face.”

But Derek apparently had superhuman hearing or some shit, because he stilled at the door, and slowly turned around. Stiles felt his heart stutter and he pretended to read the cover of a nearby magazine to look busy. He could hear the heavy steps of Derek’s boots approaching but he tried not to react; maybe he was just coming back to pick up something he forgot one of his stolen items. 

Either way Stiles wasn’t looking to start shit, no matter how much he ran his mouth.

“Excuse me?” And there went the hope that Derek hadn’t heard him. Stiles shut his eyes briefly before blinking back up at Derek. “What?” he asked, trying to play it cool.

“What did you call me, freckles?” At that Stiles rolled his eyes without even thinking. “There’s a difference between moles and freckles Hale. Besides, I didn’t say shit.” 

It was a lie, and he knew he shouldn’t have said anything because he saw a dark look pass over Derek’s face before he felt himself being grabbed by the front of the shirt. Derek had a hand fisted in his collar and he could feel his warm breath hit his mouth as Derek glared down at him. “The hell did you say Gallagher?” Stiles braced his hand on Derek’s shoulders and pushed as hard as he could. Derek stumbled back looking surprised and even more pissed. 

“My name’s not fucking Gallagher, it’s Stilinski, assface!” he spat, seeing red.

Everyone knew that Frank Gallagher was bad news and all of his kids were ashamed of him, but Stiles was the only one who took on the last name Stilinski, the surname of their maternal grandmother who had their mother. While she wasn’t the best person, she was a shit load better than Frank who more or less left them alone all the time only to come back to mooch.

Stiles had tried desperately to separate himself from the Gallagher name (even going so far to call himself Stiles after Stilinski, but that was only because their mom had given him an unpronounceable Polish name) but almost everyone still called him Gallagher.

Derek snorted, “You look like a fuckin’ Gallagher, with your big ass eyes.” This was true. Big eyes were kind of a thing for the family. But that still give Derek the goddamn right to make fun of him.

“Just fuck off man,” he finally said after a minute, hating how tired his voice sounded. Jesus, this was annoying.

Derek narrowed his eyes, ‘Don’t fuckin’ mouth off to me then, Gallagher.” 

“Don’t fucking come in here and steal shit then!” he threw his arms up, yelling, “Why don’t you go steal from some goddamn yuppies instead of this hellhole, we’re already poor as shit anyways.”

Kind of felt good yelling at Derek, but at the same time he thought the only reason he was still going off was the adrenaline that kept him from being a pussy.  
Derek just stood there for a minute, watching him with a strange look in his eyes. Finally, he snorted, “You got some goddamn balls Gallagher.” Then turned, picked up his ratty box and left, the bell ringing after him.

“It’s Stilinski,” Stiles grouched, correcting it just to correct it even though Derek was gone.

His clothes were still rumpled where Derek had grabbed them harshly, so he smoothed them out before glancing at the clock and swearing. He had school in twenty minutes. He grabbed his backpack off the door and made his way out of the store, knowing Jones was probably sleeping in the back so if it got robbed it was on the lazy owner himself.


	2. “What did I fuckin’ tell you Carl? You put your thumb over your fingers when slug someone, or you might break your thumb.”

The school was only a five minute walk away, and sure enough as usual there was Allison and Scott waiting for him on the front steps.

Allison was Scott’s girlfriend and also roommate. Allison was like almost everyone else in South Side Beacon Hills: she had some batshit crazy parents. Except, Allison’s weren’t crazy/alcoholics like Stiles or she didn’t have one parent leave them high and dry like Scott. No, her parents were tough and had abused her for almost her whole life, real tough shit that no one really liked to talk about.  
CPS though had actually done their job for once and taken her away, but when they told her she was probably gonna get transferred to the next town over, Scott freaked and his mother agreed to be her legal guardian. Which worked out great for Scott.

Stiles walked up to them and was just about to say something when he saw a familiar face pass by; it was Laura Hale, Derek’s younger sister.

“Hey Hale,” Stiles called out before he could stop himself. Laura stopped and turned to face him. “Yeah Gallagher?” she called back, looking like she couldn’t care less.  
“Tell your asswipe brother to stop stealing from the Shit-Stick,” he called back. She just smirked and walked away without saying anything. 

Scott nudged his shoulder, “What was that about?” he asked, nodding his head in Laura’s direction.

“Just some bullshit this morning.” Stiles said before they walked into the school.  
****************  
School as usual was a breeze for Stiles; he knew almost all of what his teachers were teaching him so he usually just spent the class periods making up for lack of sleep by napping on the desk.

When school went out, he made his way over to the junior high to pick up Erica, and then once he got her he walked to the elementary to pick up Carl. Carl, as usual, was sitting on the steps with a teacher standing over him with her arms crossed across her chest. She didn’t look pleased.

“Ah, fuck.” Stiles cursed before walking over. “What happened?” he asked the teacher.

She shook her head, “This young man beat up two of his fellow classmates at recess today. He gave one of them a black eye, and the other a bloody nose.”

Carl cut in, “Yeah, but my hand’s hurt from punching them!” he held his bruised knuckles and what looked like a red thumb.

Stiles rolled his eyes, “What did I fuckin’ tell you Carl? You put your thumb over your fingers when slug someone, or you might break your thumb.” Carl nodded as the teacher looked stunned.  
Stiles picked Carl up by the arm and started dragging him away. “Sorry!” he called over his shoulder to the irate teacher, “He won’t make that mistake again!”

Once they were out of sight from the school Stiles shoved Carl, “What the hell did you beat up those punks for?” he asked irritated, he hated it when Carl got in trouble.

Carl shrugged, “They said dad was a drunk fuck.”

“So?” Stiles asked, “Where’s the lie?”

“They said mom was a crazy bitch.” 

Stiles stopped and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath then opened them and said, “Well, alright. You’re off the hook.”

It was an unspoken rule in the South Side community that you never trash talked the Gallagher’s mom, especially in front of the Gallagher’s. That was just asking for an ass-whooping, no matter which sibling you said it in front of.

They made their way home without any further discussion on the matter. In Stiles mind, things worked how they were supposed to, after all the kids had what was coming to them.  
Stiles knocked into the door to open it (the doorknob was busted) only to be greeted with the sight of Lydia balancing the baby on her hip and waiting by the door. Isaac was probably out.

“We need food,” she said bluntly.

Stiles sighed, “We can’t do choose night?”

“Choose Night” was the term they used when they had food (not much) and everyone had to scavenge for themselves whatever they could pick out at the back the fridge. Whenever things got especially bad though, Stiles would have to use his employee discount at the Shit-Stick to get some quick food to tide them over.   
Stiles’ paycheck hadn’t come in yet, Lydia had spent hers on the bills that were way overdue, and Isaac had to use his to cover a trip to the doctor’s office for Liam a week ago, so they were running on nine bucks and a pretty good discount to get some food until Stiles got paid.

So he threw his backpack onto the couch, shrugged on his jacket and took the crumpled singles Lydia had, bracing himself in the cold Northern California weather.

He made it there in a little over ten minutes, keeping an eye out for any muggers that he might encounter, or rowdy teenagers looking to start shit. He wouldn’t be surprised if someone tried to start a fight just to do it.

He walked into the familiar convenience store and let himself browse a little bit, nodding to Jones as he walked in. Jones was a pretty understanding guy when it came to Stiles’ situation, probably because he’d seen it too and it was common knowledge in Beacon Hills how much of a shitshow the Gallagher’s were.

Not only were they poor, but they’d made a pretty tough name for themselves. Lydia almost never got into physical fights, but she was crazy smart and had insults that could really cut through a person’s soul. She’d never forgive someone twice, because in her eyes that was just asking to get burned. She was intimidating as hell to anyone who had never seen her softer side, that’s why her siblings weren’t as afraid of her as everyone else.

Isaac of course went to high school before Stiles and paved the way for him by cussing at teachers and throwing chairs out of windows his first few years. Of course, once he buckled down and started actually doing well in school those antics stopped, but his reputation still followed and he was always known for being handy if you needed and extra man in a scuffle.

Everyone thought Erica was mostly a softie, just ‘cause she was young and had this really innocent look about her that screamed “naïve” but one year when she was bullied at the community pool she established herself as a serious threat by beating up the other girls in a fit of rage that lead to everyone thinking differently about “baby-face Gallagher.”

Carl of course was an absolute fucking sociopath. Not only was he wild and reckless, he didn’t give a shit about who he hurt either (unless it was his siblings of course.) If anyone disrespected him or talked down to him he would let them know he felt by simply beating them to a pulp. He was particularly known for his ruthless head-butts to bullies, not even caring if he got hurt in the process.

And Stiles, well . . . everyone knew that he was probably the softest out of the whole Gallagher family, but everyone in town also knew about how the last time Frank had left them with nothing, Stiles had snapped and tracked him down and beat him so badly he had to go to the hospital. Stiles never did anything crazy like that again, but it’s not something anyone forgets.

So, of course, that’s when Jackson fucking Whittemore came in and demanded to know where Stiles was.

Jackson was the resident douchebag of the South Side. He wasn’t rich by any means, but he was better-off than anyone else in the town, and he knew it. He also had a huge thing for Lydia and had probably just found out that instead of talking him up, Stiles had talked a bunch of shit about him to Lydia.

“Gallagher!” his voice called out into the store. “I know you’re fucking here!”

Stiles braced himself before walking out into the open. “Yeah, Jackson?” he asked tiredly. It had been a long goddamn day.

“Why the fuck did your sister just turn me down when I texted her?” he demanded getting right into Stiles’ face.

“Maybe because you did it over text?” No sooner had the words come out of his mouth had Stiles been yanked out of the store and onto the sidewalk.

“I know you had something to do with this,” Jackson snarled, “Maybe a little physical persuasion might help you change your mind.”

He threw his fist back and within a second Stiles scrambled off the ground and a couple feet away, chest heaving. Jackson hadn’t been quick enough though and his fist hit the pavement. He cried out and stood up, going after Stiles not even caring about his now bloody hand.

Stiles ran for a while before he got winded. He looked behind him to see Jackson still tailing him, and cut through an alley way before looking behind him again, only to run into something.  
He fell own and looked up. Of fucking course, standing there was a smirking Derek Hale.

“Hey Gallagher,” he smirked down, “We meet again.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and shot up before shoving him away and saying, “It’s Stilinski, you creep.” He smoothed out his shirt and was about to walk off when he heard Jackson’s voice come from the other end screaming, “You’re done, shitface!”

“Fuck!” Stiles cursed, he was about to take off again when Derek grabbed his arm. “The hell you running for?” he asked, his smirk getting wider. “You gonna pussy out and run away?”

Stiles tried to yank his arm out of Derek’s grasp, but he wouldn’t budge. Derek just kept watching him, while Jackson’s voice became louder, coming closer.

Finally, in a moment of panic, Stiles drew his other arm back and punched Derek squarely in the face, startling him enough to let go of his arm so he could get away.

He ran until he was back at the Shit-Stick, where he immediately went to the back room and waited. He still had to pick up those goddamn groceries. 

He waited for a moment to catch his breath, and then waited another moment to hear Jackson yelling his name. He heard Jones tell him to piss off; that Stiles wasn’t there, and when the bell chimed and he heard Jackson leave he tentatively stepped out.

Jones had his eyebrows raised at him and all he could muster was a weak shoulder shrug before resuming his search for cheap food.

He paid at the cash register, with the discount it was only five bucks for all of it so he had four comfortable singles in his back pocket. He made his way home quickly, wary of an angry Jackson or Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! i already had the second chapter done so i just posted it. anyway, i swear there will be way more interaction with stiles and derek soon but i just need to establish the storyline a bit before i get it started. next chapter will be coming soon, please leave comments and kudos are appreciated! :-)


	3. "Oliver Twist"

If Stiles thought that punching Derek in the alley would deter him from seeing Stiles, he was sorely mistaken. Not only did Derek come into the shop every morning now, but he also actually began paying for his items (granted it was only packs of gum or drinks) and he never gave Stiles any more shit for it.

For a good three days after that punch in the alley Derek had a huge shiner on his right eye, exactly where Stiles had punched. He tried not to look at it too often because he was afraid Derek might make him pay for it (physically) but he couldn’t help the secret pride that came with injuring Derek Hale.

Even Isaac was impressed when Stiles told him, and Isaac was rarely impressed by anything these days. He had raised his eyebrows and said, “You’re a dead man, shitface.” But a second later he grinned and asked, “Did he go down in one punch?”

Derek didn’t say anything about it though, almost like he had accepted he deserved it (which he did for being a douche) and he didn’t even hunt Stiles down and beat him to a pulp like Stiles thought he would.

Not only that, but Stiles had seen Jackson around town the other day and Jackson didn’t even spare him a second glance, Stiles scurried away immediately afterwards but not without noticing that Jackson looked like he’d been through the ringer beforehand- maybe one of his many enemies had caught up with him and given him a beating he actually deserved.

So everything was going pretty well for Stiles lately, something he didn’t want to jinx.

*********************

Of course, that’s when everything went to shit in one day.

He had finished his shift at the Shit-Stick with minimal customers that morning (which also meant minimal problems) and had headed off to school, where he learned that for the semester long English project he’d be pared with none other than Laura Hale. AKA: most known for sleeping with almost every guy in school, and most known for her older, intimidating brothers.

When Mr. Pritchard told them their partner assignments, Laura had smirked at him from across the room and gave him a wink that made Stiles blush down to his chest. He wasn’t attracted to her (he had known he was gay for a long time) but she still intimidated him enough to make him squirm in her seat.

When Mr. Pritchard told them to get with their partners Stiles and Laura agreed that they would meet at the Gallagher household because according to Laura her house was, “Dirty as shit, and it’s loud ‘cause of my brothers anyway.” Stiles warned her that his house probably wasn’t any better but she pointed out, “Your dinner table probably doesn’t have guns all over it,” to which Stiles agreed that his house was probably better.

The placement put him in such a weird mood for the rest of the day, now that he thought about how close he and Laura would have to get to do the project he also realized at some point sooner or later they’d have to meet at the Hale house, something Stiles wasn’t looking forward to.

After school he had to rush picking up Erica and Carl so he could get home and tidy up the place before Laura came over so she couldn’t see the pigsty that was the Gallagher residence.

They got there just in time to see a brooding Derek Hale waiting by the steps while Laura sat down on the lower one, too absorbed in her phone to notice Stiles walking up.

“What took you so long?” Derek barked, looking pissed off to be waiting, even though there was no good reason why he was there with Laura in the first place.

Stiles just rolled his eyes and said, “Sorry, had to pick up the kids.” Laura clicked off her phone and stood up, following Carl and Debbie as they made their way into the house. Derek called after Laura, “You gonna be okay walking home alone?”

Laura turned around and rolled her eyes. “Please,” she scoffed, “If anyone tries to touch me I’ll knife em’ before they can get far.” She turned around and disappeared into the Gallagher household.

Stiles went to follow her but Derek grabbed the back of his shirt and dragged him back before he could get far. “Jesus, “he whined, “What is with you and manhandling everyone?”

“If I hear that you hurt her-“Derek began, almost snarling.

Stiles cut him off, “Trust me, I’m not gonna try anything. God, are you this way with everyone?”

Derek gave him a hard look. “I know who Frank Gallagher is, and I wouldn’t be surprised if one of his kids took after him.”

Stiles glared back at him, ‘Trust me, we all hate him enough without giving us a bad name.” before shaking Derek’s hand off of him and stalking up the stairs without looking back.

When he made it into the house he was greeted by the sight of pure madness and he was suddenly reminded of how shitty his whole day had been so far. Erica was on the couch holding a shrill, crying baby Liam, Carl was trying to fuse together two of action figures over an open flame, Lydia was on the phone shouting at someone, Isaac was tinkering with some robotic parts on the kitchen table, and Laura was standing in the middle of it all grinning back at him.

He rolled his eyes and made his way over to her through the mess. “Still think our house is better?” he quirked a brow at her. She just smiled wider and shrugged. “Hell of a lot more interesting than my house.”

Stiles snorted, “Follow me, weirdo.”

They walked up the stairs to Stiles, Isaac, and Carl’s room. It was one of the only clean rooms in the house, if only because Isaac was a neat freak who hated it when everyone’s shit got in the way.

They sat on Stiles and began getting out their English list. “So,” Stiles began reading off the list, “Which book do you wanna analyze?” he looked up to see Laura sprawled on his bed, already making herself comfortable. He got off the bed and pulled up his desk chair so they could face each other.

“Oliver Twist.” She offered, her eyes slipping shut.

Stiles gave her a deadpan look, “Wow poverty-stricken family, I wonder if you’re referencing anything. Let’s look at the list, maybe there’s a book that’s not shit on there.”

Laura cracked open her eyes and scanned the page before saying, “Hamlet,” and closing them again.

“You wanna do Shakespeare?” he asked, disbelief evident in his voice. “Do you even know who that is?” he snarked back, wanting her to pick an actual book not just any one she read off the list at random.

“Yeah, I do fuckface.” She sat up and glared at him. “I’ll have you know that I’ve read a bunch of his other books, too.”

He raised a brow, “Then you know that their actually plays, right?” she opened her mouth ready to say something back when he stuck his hands up and said, “Whoa chill out, I’m just messin’ with you.” He gave her a grin and she rolled her eyes in response.

“Alright, the problems of the rich, let’s get this shit started,” he said before they dove into the assignment.

************

Turns out Stiles really enjoyed Laura’s company, she was funny and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, something that Stiles liked in friends. She was bold in a way that he wasn’t used to, and he found that time passed by fast when he was in her presence. They actually got a lot of work done; Laura knew her shit about analyzing literature.

He was about to actually compliment her on it when Lydia stuck her head through the door and asked, “Laura, are you saying for dinner?”

Laura looked between them; Stiles nodded so she turned back to Lydia smiling and said, “Sure! Lemme help you with setting out plates.” She got off his bed before Lydia could even protest and walked to the kitchen.

Lydia looked at him with her eyebrows raised. “She’s a keeper!” she winked, before closing the door behind her.

Stiles didn’t feel like eating yet, though, so he just went and lay down on his bed, thinking. He hadn’t told Lydia yet that he was gay; the only one who knew was Isaac. Isaac had found one of his male magazines under the desk though, so it wasn’t like he willingly came out. Of course, Isaac was cool about it but that didn’t mean Stiles was ready to tell everyone.

Not everyone in South Side would accept him; in fact most probably wouldn’t. Most would actually do a “fag-bash” as they called it, and beat him senseless.

Stiles knew Lydia and the rest of his family probably wouldn’t care, but he didn’t want to bring that kind of violence to them if it ever got out and people started punishing his whole family instead of just him. It was eating him from the inside though; keeping secrets was never his strong suit.

Putting it off from his mind, he stretched before climbing off the bed and started heading down the stairs for dinner.

Lydia had used her connections at the diner she worked part-time at to get them some burgers and leftover pies for only a fraction of the price it would have all cost together. There were enough for leftovers for the rest of the week, something that would be greatly appreciated in the Gallagher household where your next meal was uncertain.

They were all serving themselves and talking at the dinner table when Lydia cleared her throat. Everyone quickly shut up; whenever Lydia did this it usually meant she had something important to say.

Without looking at any of them (which meant it was bad news) she said clearly, “CPS has been called again.”  
Everyone groaned except Laura, who looked confused. CPS was a bad news for the Gallagher’s, as Frank still had parental custody over them and if one of their workers came in at a bad time they could split up everyone and send them off. Every one of the Gallagher’s had been through the foster care system; Stiles himself had been through group homes and foster homes. He preferred working and staying with his own family over being sent to a random family that knew nothing on how to handle him.

He always especially worried about Erica, Carl, and Liam. Those three hadn’t been through the system yet and he knew that if they got separated they probably couldn’t handle it; usually at least he and Isaac were placed together because they were the oldest. Lydia didn’t qualify anymore since she was of age, but that also meant she got the hard task of trying to get them back into her (Frank’s) custody, which took at least a minimum of a week.

There was no way Stiles was going to go through it again, not if he could help it. “Do you know who called in?”

Lydia shook her head and sighed. “Probably an angry neighbor or something,’ she said, finally locking eyes with everyone at the table.

“Alright, well we know what to do,” Isaac started saying, always the one to think on the spot, “Carl, stop acting up at school. Stiles and I will keep our heads buried in our books, we’ve got to have someone watching Liam at all times, and we definitely need to pick up the house. We have no clue when one of their agents will stop by to survey the place.”

Laura looked on in disbelief. “Does this happen often?’ she asked, her voice raising a pitch.

Lydia gave her a reassuring smile, “No, only every couple of years. Usually it’s when Frank has pissed off someone important and they wanna get back at him.”

Laura didn’t argue with that, everyone knew the kind of trouble Frank got into on a daily basis.

The rest of the meal no one really talked, now they were all too stressed to even think about light conversation when they could all be split up at any point this week.

When they finished eating Laura gathered her items and walked to the front door while Stiles walked with her.

“I’m sorry dinner was such a downer,” he apologized, “I swear it’s usually more fun than that.”

Laura shook her head, “Don’t be sorry, it was fun seeing you all interact, really interesting Stiles.” And before he could even ask what that meant, she flounced down the steps and into the night, only throwing a quick wave over her shoulder as goodbye.


	4. . “You ever need some place to stay . . . this house is big, if you needed to get away from the foster family or some shit.”

Turns out hanging with Laura Hale had its benefits. Although no one ever really gave him shit before, now people actually avoided Stiles in the hallways now. It seemed like since people found out he was now “hanging” with Laura, they considered him even more of a threat.

Of course, Allison and Scott welcomed her with open arms, they were happy to add someone else to their fairly small friend group; especially someone who could have everyone fuck off.

Although, with this added friendship came the obligation to meet up and actually work on their English project. They had only gathered at the Gallagher’s house so far, but with the impending arrival of the social worker who was bound to come evaluate their living conditions, Stiles got nervous bringing around extra people in case anything were to happen.

Thus began their meetings at the Hale house.

The first two meetings were when no one was in the house, so Stiles felt completely at ease. However, Laura informed him that Derek would be home when they next met, which was in . . . about five minutes.

Stiles could feel his hands sweating, even as he pressed the dirty doorbell.

Laura answered the door, grin on her face and smacking gum.

“Hey cutie,” she winked, “Ready to study?”

He gave her a grin, “Oh, you bet I am.” He gave her an impish grin before brushing past her into the house.

The Hale house was large, but untidy. Seeing as there were more than a dozen Hales living in the house (there was that unspoken knowledge that they were a part of the mafia) and they were all busy, there was no one to really come clean up the place.

Stiles, sharing a room with Isaac who was anal about cleanliness, always felt an uncomfortable urge to at least pick up a couple things but he knew that bringing it up would definitely not get him on good terms with the Hale family.

Of course on his way to Laura’s room was Derek sitting there at the dining table, cleaning one of his guns. Stiles tried not to stare at his muscled arms moving, too much.  
Derek looked up at the sound of his footsteps and scowled. “The fuck you doin’ here Gallagher? Decide our house is better?” he smirked at the end of the statement.

Once again, Stiles was reminded of the fact that while Derek was nice to look at, he was also a raging douchebag.

But Stiles didn’t back down. “Nah, I decided that this was the perfect place to slum it today. Your house is nice, quaint really.”

Derek rolled his eyes at that. He hesitated a second then seemed to ask cautiously, “That social worker still giving you shit?”

Stiles was surprised Derek had cared enough to ask, but he didn’t show it. He shook his head, “No, she hasn’t done a surprise visit yet. That’s why I came here, if she catches too many people in the house or somethin’ shady going on, I’m probably in a foster home the next couple of days or weeks.”

He didn’t know why he told Derek all of that. Derek didn’t give a shit what was happening at home, he didn’t care that Stiles’ family, his lifeline, might be split apart.  
Except the way Derek was staring at him, eyes boring into him unblinking, there seemed to be something . . . more. As if in some way he cared, After all, he did care enough to ask about the social worker, so that had to show that he had an ounce of compassion in his body.

“Well,” Derek began, startling Stiles out of his thoughts. “You ever need some place to stay . . . this house is big, if you needed to get away from the foster family or some shit.” Derek looked extremely uncomfortable saying it, so Stiles just nodded and turned away, sparing Derek from over thinking what he had just said.

Wow. So now not only had Derek expressed genuine concern, but now he had offered Stiles a place to stay. He could feel his face flush as he walked up the stairs, and not from the exertion. Derek Hale was an enigma, something Stiles couldn’t wrap around his head. Half the time he was unbearable, the other half he did nice shit like that and Stiles was left confused.  
Of course, the caring side of Derek didn’t help in squashing his developing crush on him, but Derek didn’t need to know that.  
****************  
When Stiles got home it was to a silent, dark house. 

The Gallagher’s were walking on eggshells now, which meant the social worker hadn’t visited them yet. Now they were in “freak out mode,” which meant that they were on their very best behavior until all of this was done.

When he got into the house he could see Lydia at the dining table, a beer in front of her. Isaac was on her left, sporting the same.  
He cautiously walked into the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and went to sit across from them.

Lydia looked up at him and gave him a small smile, one that didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Everything alright?” he asked, anxiety beginning to bubble up in his chest.

“Frank called in the social worker.” Lydia said bluntly.

The words hit Stiles like a bus. He had always disliked Frank, all of them had. He had never been a father figure to them, never shown them he was someone they could count on. Stiles knew that he should’ve expected this kind of selfish behavior from Frank.  
But this wasn’t missing a soccer game, or stealing money. This was Frank trying to separate them; trying to split up the only good thing Stiles had known all of his life. This time he was specifically trying to ruin their family.

“Is this ‘cause we kicked him out again last week?” He heard himself ask woodenly.

Lydia shook her head. “No, that would’ve come too early. I had a talk with him a couple weeks ago. Said some stuff. He must’ve called it right after. If I would have known he would’ve done this . . .” she trailed off, shaking her head.

Isaac cut in. “No, he would’ve done this sooner or later, it’s no one’s fault but his. But now we have to pay for it, now we have to regroup. We have to get smart,” he said firmly.  
Lydia and Stiles nodded. Now they had to plan out what they were going to do with the kids, how they were going to meet the demands of CPS.

“You’re right.” Stiles nodded. “I’ll start picking up Erica and Carl immediately after school. Think I can convince him to stop beating the shit out of other kids at the school?”

Lydia gave a hollow laugh. “You can try. I’ll either bring Liam to work with me or try to have Melissa babysit him.”

Isaac shrugged, “I can come after school and make sure the place is spotless, try to make it up to their standards.”

They sat there for a while, thinking things over. Finally, Stiles began to feel the day weigh on him, and he got up to throw his bottle away before heading up the stairs, leaving Lydia and Isaac still silent at the table.

He didn’t even change into his pajamas before he hit the bed and went to sleep, already thinking of the next day.  
*************  
Laura said she would come home with him after school to help make dinner and help with the kids before their plan could go into action. Stiles accepted her offer, glad to have any form of help.

They got home soon enough, only to see that the house was in complete disarray. It looked even more wrecked than usual, everything was tossed around everywhere.  
Stiles could feel the lump in his throat as he walked around, looking at the mess. It hadn’t looked at all like this the night before, so that meant that someone had come in while they were all gone that day and ruined it for them. Stiles could only think of one person who would do that. Frank.

“Um, Stiles?” Laura’s voice called after him tentatively, “There’s a lady here . . .” and Stiles whole world stopped.

He turned around and sure enough, an Asian woman with a severe looking bun glared back at him. “I’m here for the surprise inspection. I’ll request that you stay out of my way as I survey the . . . house.” 

Stiles nodded numbly, unsure of what to do. They were completely out of options now. He kept thinking to the night before when they were making plans, full of hope that they could dupe the system somehow. 

Now, Frank had sabotaged them at the worst possible time, and there was nothing to do about it.

Laura was still standing at the door, an expression of horror on her face.

“Who trashed your place? Do you think you got robbed?” she looked so scared for him he had to turn away.

“No . . . it was probably Frank. You can go now; you probably shouldn’t stay around for this stuff.”

Laura looked ready to protest, but he was already walking away, taking Erica and Carl with him.

He felt himself going on autopilot; putting them in their rooms and waiting in the living room for the worker to finish up her investigation of the house. He distantly heard Lydia and Isaac coming in but paid them no mind, his mind was already whirring with what would happen.

After about half an hour the case worker called a meeting in the dining room. She had a sour look on her face as she picked up a dirty sock off one of the chairs and gestured for them to sit down with her.

“Listen ma’am, the house doesn’t usually look like this I think it was-“the social worker cut Lydia off with a raised hand.

“You are all living in squalor, “her voice had a hard edge “You are endangering the lives of your younger siblings. This is quite possibly one of the worst cases I have seen of unfit living conditions, and that’s not even the half of it.”

Lydia looked at her imploringly, “What else do you mean, Miss . . .”

She glared unfalteringly at Lydia. “Nguyen. I checked your sibling’s school reports and while most of them are good, one of them reports as ‘constantly acting out’ and he also has been reported for numerous different accounts of bullying. I noticed that you haven’t enrolled the youngest in any form of daycare, so I assume you’re taking him with you to work?” 

Lydia couldn’t even speak.

She continued, “That’s what I thought. I’ve also looked at job history and I’ve seen that you and your two siblings here have been employed at very young ages, something we don’t like to see in the office. For now, I am transferring Erica to one foster home, Liam and Carl will be transferred to another, and Isaac and Stiles will be transferred to a group home.”

Stiles felt his stomach drop. He could’ve dealt with a foster home where he could have put on a fake smile but a group home? That was where the delinquents went, and that meant trouble.


	5. “Alright, tell your buddy to ask Derek Hale if he knows Stiles Gallagher.”

Stiles gathered up Erica and Carl the next morning, helping them pack their belongings so they could be ready in time for the social worker to pick them up. 

He got downstairs only to see Lydia packing Liam’s bag and Isaac at the kitchen table not touching his cereal in front of him. The mood in the Gallagher household was a somber one; no one quite ready for the events to unfold today.

Ms. Nguyen was supposed to pick them up at 9:00 and they were all going to skip school today to get acquainted in their new homes. 

Stiles’ stomach churned uncomfortably as he thought of the group home he and Isaac were going to be sent to. Stiles had only ever been transferred to foster homes, but the last “issue” they’d had with CPS Isaac had been sent to a group home.

After they resolved the issue that time and had all reunited Isaac hadn’t said a word about his experience. It wasn’t until it was late at night and Isaac offered him part of his joint before Isaac finally told him about it. Everything about it sounded unpleasant; the kids were all rowdy and not afraid to rough you up if you got on their bad side. Stiles wasn’t exactly willing to fight every day, and none of them knew about the Gallagher reputation, so he would probably be weeded out first.

Not only did he have to worry about himself; now he had to worry about Erica, Carl, and Liam. Carl was fine on his own, but he’d have to look out for Liam, something that he almost never did. It wasn’t that Carl hated Liam, it was just that he wasn’t used to having to care for someone else. Erica on the other hand was too caring and way too sensitive to be by herself, in a foster home no less. Yeah, sometimes they weren’t that bad, but there were some rotten ones Stiles had been to in the past that he knew for a fact that Erica couldn’t handle.

At least he had Isaac with him; Isaac took no one’s shit and would probably be running the place by their second night. Stiles could only hope that Isaac intimidated everyone enough for the both of them.

Everyone was packed up except for Lydia, who looked on the verge of tears. Legally, she wasn’t allowed to know yet where they were being transferred, so she wouldn’t be going with them. Usually she had a deal set up with the former CPS worker that visited them that after 48 hours she could come see them, but Ms. Nguyen looked like she wasn’t as easily convinced to . . . tweak the rules like the last worker.

So unless Lydia could break through Ms. Nguyen’s iron shell, they’d be there for a while, with no one but whom they were placed with.

9:00 came soon enough, and everyone flinched when they heard the harsh, short knocks on the door. Stiles felt like he was gonna throw up.  
He wondered if normal kids had to worry about getting separated by the CPS because of spiteful drunk fathers, but stopped thinking about it before he got too depressed.

They all piled into a non-descript white van, and Stiles watched as Lydia stood in the front yard with her arms crossed across her chest and her fierce eyes looking wet. Lydia never cried.  
Stiles turned away before he would start crying. Gallagher’s didn’t cry.

The van was completely silent, and the tension was palpable. When Ms. Nguyen cleared her throat Erica flinched at the noise, and Stiles laid a hand on her shoulder to try to comfort her.  
The van stopped at an average house that was obviously very middle class. Ms. Nguyen turned around in her seat and said, “Erica, this is where you’ll be staying. Your foster mother is called Mrs. Smith, she has a lot of other foster children you can play with too.” She tried to smile at Erica, but Erica wasn’t paying attention, she was too busy with her nose pressed up against the window.

“When do I go back home?” she asked, finally turning to the case worker.

Ms. Nguyen’s smile faltered, “Until we feel that it’s safe to go back home, Erica.”

“But home is always safe!” Erica wailed, looking desperate.

Isaac rubbed her back. “It’s alright Erica, you’ll be fine. Lydia will figure it out and get us soon, okay?”

Erica nodded, still looking tearful. 

Ms. Nguyen stepped out and opened the door for Erica, who sniffled and gave everyone one last hug.

She walked up to the house and before entering, turned around and gave one last huge wave.

Ms. Nguyen came back looking a bit nervous. Once she got into the van she looked at Erica’s placement papers, then back to the house before shaking her head and telling the driver where to go next.  
The group home was closer then where Carl and Liam were going, so Isaac and Stiles couldn’t see them off before they left. They got there is under twenty minutes, and pulled up to a very shabby, large looking facility.

Stiles and Isaac stepped out, but not before giving Carl and Liam hugs, Isaac telling Carl to watch over Liam. Carl nodded fiercely, and a bit of Stiles’ tension eased, Carl seemed up to the task of taking care of their baby brother.

They walked into the group home, trailing behind Ms. Nguyen, who also seemed a bit unsure of the place. She handed them off to the caretaker, but not before quietly (and firmly) telling them if they needed any help or needed to leave to call the CPS.

Stiles felt better after she said that, as she seemed to be slowly switching to their side. It was good to have a case worker pity you enough to send you back home.

The place itself wasn’t anything special; the wallpaper was peeling and it smelled of old laundry. The group home leader (who introduced himself as Mr. Michaels in a very authoritarian voice) brought them to their “bedroom”, which was really dozens of cots shoved together in one room.

They dropped their stuff down on empty beds near each other and followed him to finish the rest of the tour. There were no kids around, as they still had to go to school, so it felt big and empty.   
After the tour they were given some time to “get used to the place” which meant that until lunchtime they were to sit down and do nothing.

They both sat next to each other in silence before Mr. Michaels left, to which Stiles asked Isaac, “Whaddya think of the place?”

Isaac cast a calculating sweep over the room. “I think, “he began slowly, “That it might be a bit difficult here. I’ve already seen like, six contraband items, and there are a bunch of beds shoved near each other. They’re all probably the ringleaders or some shit. We’ll just have to wait until we see them I guess.” He shrugged.  
Stiles sighed and went to lie on his back, hoping to get a nap to put his mind off of everything.

**************  
Isaac was right; there was a kind of clique in the group home. There were about five guys who everyone avoided, and they acted like they owned the place.

Stiles tried to stay under the radar, but they spotted him and Isaac pretty soon. They walked over and introduced themselves with a kind, “Who the fuck are you?”

Stiles stiffened, already expecting a fight. Isaac cut in smoothly, “Isaac and Stiles Gallagher. We’re from South Side.”

The second he said it the main leader noticeably tensed up.

“Where you live?” his tone wasn’t as confrontational as before.

“Triskelion neighborhood.”

Stiles tried not to give away Isaac’s lie. While they did live on the Triskelion road, they weren’t in the neighborhood. The Triskelion was the informal name for the area; after all it was actually the name   
of the mafia that the Hales ran. They used their family symbol as a descriptor for their service instead of their surname as that could be traced back easily.

The leader’s eyebrows rose high. “Yeah? I got a buddy who knows them. If I gave your names whaddya think they’d say?”

Stiles cut in before Isaac could give them away. “Alright, tell your buddy to ask Derek Hale if he knows Stiles Gallagher.”

He felt Isaac look at him in his peripheral, but he kept his gaze steady on the ringleader.

“Yeah okay, I’ll tell him to do that. But if you’re caught lying, man you’re gonna get it.” And with that, he stalked away.

Isaac slugged him on the arm, “How are we going to get away with this? You’ve never even talked to Derek that much!”

Stiles rubbed his arm, “Trust me, it’ll work.”

Isaac narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say anything else. Stiles was confident Derek would vouch for him; he offered Stiles his house, right?

He tried not to look shady as he thought it over. Derek didn’t owe him anything, so he didn’t have to cover for Stiles. But it wasn’t like it was really a lie; Derek did know who Stiles was. Maybe they   
weren’t as close as Stiles had hinted to the gang leader, but they knew each other nonetheless.  
When he snuck a look over, he saw that the guy had his phone to his hear, and he looked to be yelling at someone. Stiles couldn’t help but feel nervous, if Derek didn’t go along with it . . . however long he’d stay here would be a living hell.

About twenty minutes passed before the leader came back to their bunks, cell phone in his hand. He looked . . . frightened?

“He uh, he wants to talk to you.” He stammered and held the phone out, his hand shaking.

Stiles cautiously took the phone from him and held it up to his ear. “Hello?” he called out, confused.

“Tell me why some punk kid came up to me on the street asking if I knew you.” And there was Derek’s gruff voice on the other end.

Stiles sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Um yeah, about that, just some shit I’m in right now.”

Derek paused. “Where are you? Laura said you didn’t come to school today. You with a family?” If Stiles looked hard enough, he could hear maybe a trace of concern in his voice.

“Nah,” he shook his head, even if Derek couldn’t see it, “I’m in a group home. It was just some guys giving me crap, though.” The ringleader noticeably twitched.

Derek snorted. “Not anymore. Give me back to him for a minute.”

Stiles handed the phone back to the guy who tentatively held it up to his ear. “Hello?” he croaked.

A couple minutes passed before he handed the phone back to Stiles. “You need someone to bail you out just tell Laura or I.”

Stiles tried to quench down the giddiness that came with the offer. He could feel a blush creeping up his neck into his cheeks. “I can’t leave; I’m only allowed to go to work or school.” 

Derek sighed, “Fine, next time you work I’ll check in. Stay out of trouble.” The call ended with a click, and Stiles handed back the phone to the guy who scurried away immediately.

He looked to his left to see Isaac staring intently at him. “What?” he asked, feeling his blush get worse.

Isaac just raised an eyebrow and shrugged, “Just didn’t know you were so close with Derek, that’s all.”

Stiles rolled his eyes only to see the beginning hints of a teasing smile at Isaac’s lips. “Oh, fuck off.” He scoffed before turning away and digging a book out of his bag.  
*********************  
The next morning, after a fitful night of sleep, Isaac and Stiles got ready and went on the bus that brought all the kids to their schools.

Theirs was one of the last stops, so Stiles and Isaac got to the school around the same time as they usually did.

They nodded a goodbye to each other before splitting up to their respective friend groups.

When he got to the steps Scott and Allison, along with a relieved looking Laura, were waiting for him. He was immediately bombarded with questions about what happened before Laura spoke up loudly saying, “Why did you call Derek?”

Stiles immediately felt his cheeks heat up, a dead giveaway. Scott and Allison immediately stopped their questions, each raising their eyebrows.  
“I didn’t call him!” he protested, “Some guy at this group home was trying to intimidate us so I flubbed a little and said I was close to your family.” With every word the smile stretched on Laura’s face.

“Is that why he’s coming by your work to make sure you’re okay?” she asked, he could hear the derision in her voice.

He gave her a hard look. “He’s just making sure I don’t ruin his name or whatever. It doesn’t matter, my problems solved.” And he started walking away.

But Laura trailed after him, “You hear that he threatened them to lay off you?” 

With that Stiles stopped. “How do you know all this?” 

She shrugged. “Derek came and bitched to me all about it, especially how these guys were trying to ‘rough it up’ with you.” She giggled at the last bit.  
Stiles looked up heavenwards in frustration. “They weren’t trying to ‘rough me up’; they were just trying to scare me. Tell your brother that he doesn’t have to worry.”

He turned away trying to block out Laura’s obvious snickering behind him.

Stiles made it alright through his classes, but he was constantly thinking about what had happened in the past 24 hours. He wasn’t really thinking about the group home really, but more about Derek. 

All he could wonder was why Derek had stood up for him? Why did Derek offer him their house? Surely he didn’t care that much . . . right?  
Derek made him extremely nervous. Part of it was due to the fact that Stiles harbored The Biggest Crush on him, but it was also due to the fact that Derek himself could be intimidating as hell. Derek was powerful, crude, and had a way about him that terrified most of the citizens in South Side.

Stiles kind of figured that his hard reputation came with the family business, but Derek sure exceeded expectations with his impatient attitude and gruff demeanor. God, Stiles had the worst taste in guys.

Except . . . Derek could be caring in some situations. There was an incident a couple years ago where a former pedophile had moved close to the area and Derek and his brothers hunted him down and beat him until he agreed to leave. There was another situation where Derek had beaten up (that was his specialty apparently) some guy who was harassing Laura, he had been really pushy and kept trying to force himself on her.

And, of course, there was him offering up his house and threatening the punk at the group home. Every time Stiles thought about it he felt like it was a dream, it didn’t happen. And now Derek was going to meet up with him tomorrow when he worked (he didn’t even let himself think of how Derek knew when his shifts were) to check up on him. Subconsciously when he thought of it he could feel a smile bloom onto his face.  
*************  
Of course his mood was fucked when he and Isaac went back to the group home later. He had been dreading going back all day. All he could think about on the bus ride home was what everyone else was doing. He hadn’t even seen where Carl and Liam were staying so he couldn’t judge if it was good or not, and while he was worried about Erica he knew she’d adapt quickly and take care of herself.

Who he really worried about was Lydia. She always went stir crazy when she was by herself, and now she had the added on stress of trying to get them back.

He wondered how she’d swing it this time; usually Frank would come in basically sober and gave a bullshit heartfelt speech about hanging his ways” and they’d be gone, but it looked like Frank was leaving them to fend for themselves this time.

Now Lydia had to deal with it all on her own, she had to figure out a solution to what felt like an impossible problem with no bail out. Stiles wracked his brains for good ideas but he couldn’t think of any . . . at least not any legal ones.

The bus ride home was loud and disconcerting, only Stiles and Isaac sat silently.

Their night was going well when one of the groupies from the other day approached him in the bathroom.

“Saw you talking to Pete the other day.” He jutted his chin out and his voice was angry.

“And you are?” he asked, because so far he only knew a grand total of two names in this place.

“Sam. I don’t like you.”

Stiles chuckled. “A man of many words! Anyway, it was nice meeting, hope to see you again.” He tried to shoulder past but Sam hit him in the shoulder, hard enough to have him stagger back.

“I don’t give a shit about Triskelion, I know people in the Deucalion and they ain’t scared of you. I don’t like how just ‘cause you say one name you’re untouchable.”

Fuck. Of course the longtime Hale rival, Deucalion, had one of their jockeys here; that was just his luck.  
“Listen man,” he put up his hands, “I don’t wanna start anyth-“he was suddenly thrown off by a white pain in the right side of his face. He hit the floor, holding onto his now bleeding nose. He felt a sharp pain bloom in his right side, probably Sam kicking him.

He staggered up and threw his fist into Sam’s stomach, who howled and clutched it immediately afterwards. Stiles grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him the traditional “Gallagher Head butt” that had Sam hitting the wall behind him and sliding down. Stiles leaned over him.

“You made a wrong fuckin’ move. Mess with me again and I won’t hold back.” And just because he was feeling angry, Stiles spat on him before he left.

He went to the next bathroom at the other end of the building and cleaned up his wound, looking at the already developing bruises in the mirror.

“Shit, “he muttered. Derek was gonna see him at work tomorrow, and he was gonna be pissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! So the story has kind of been set in motion! you guys have no idea how fun (but frustrating) it was to write this haha. please leave a kudos or a comment below!!!! i love reading them and it only takes a couple seconds!!!


	6. "Because now you’re Hale property, whether you like it or not.”

When Stiles woke up early and tugged on a jacket to go to work it was with shaking hands. He was supposed to get a ride from one of the workers at the home so they could make sure he got into work and he had half a mind to call in and say he was sick so he wouldn’t have to face Derek.

But that would probably make things worse, if Derek came there and Stiles wasn’t working . . . Stiles had no doubt in his mind that Derek would find some way to track him down; even if it meant showing up to one of Stiles’ classes or breaking into the group home.

So he got his backpack ready and went to the front office, already feeling nauseous at the prospect of seeing Derek. 

The ride there took fifteen minutes since the group home was far away, and the whole ride there Stiles chewed on his jacket sleeve in stress. When he got out of the car the driver stopped him by holding his arm. “Holy hell, kid.” He whistled. “You got some shiner there.”

“Thanks.” Stiles muttered and shrugged the guy’s hand off his shoulder; he didn’t need any more assurance that his face looked bad.

Of course he had to open up the shop when he got there, and once he got in he waved his arm around a bit so the driver could leave. The second the car was out of sight he left the window and ran for the tiny mirror in one of the counter’s drawers. He dug out the pink plastic mirror and held it in front of his face, inspecting the damage.

It was worse than it had been the night before. Not only was his eye bruised and a bit swollen; his nose looked like it had a small fracture and his right cheek had a dark angry bruise spread all over it. His lip was bloodied, but that was only because he had bit his lip in the night, and his face looked puffier than usual because he slept on it weird.

All in all; Stiles did not look good.

The Shit-Stick didn’t carry any make-up so he wouldn’t be able to cover it up, and there was no way he was gonna leave the shop open in the South Side. So he just accepted his fate; the feeling of dread growing more and more in his stomach as the minutes ticked by.

He puttered around, trying to ease his nerves. He had pressed numerous ice packs to his face to reduce the swelling. It helped his eye a bit, but his nose definitely needed to get checked by Scott’s mom.

When the bells jingled at the door he did a full body flinch. He had had his back to the door, and continued to do the sweeping (more like swinging the broom over empty air to look busy) until he heard Derek say, “Turn around Gallagher.”

He turned slightly on his good side. “How many times do I have to tell you? It’s Stilinski.”

He saw Derek roll his eyes. “Fine. Turn around all the way . . . Stilinski.”

Stiles sighed and faced Derek head on, swallowing nervously.

The second Derek saw his full face he walked right around the counter angrily. “What the fuck?!” he shouted, “What little fucker did this to you?” 

Derek’s hand flew up to Stiles’ face, gently gripping his chin and tilting his face around. Stiles couldn’t stop the blush that rose, and when Derek’s other hand started tracing his bruises he felt his face heat up even more. It was an alien thing; to be touched by Derek Hale and not in a harmful or violent way for once. Stiles thought about how delicate this time was, compared to when Derek had gripped his shirt in his hand that other day in the shop when he almost beat him up.

Derek’s fingers were warm; everywhere they touched left a trail of warmth. Every little caress was like a dull shock that sent Stiles’ heart beating out of his chest. Derek’s own face had a focused, calculating expression as he inspected the damage.

Up this close Stiles truly got to appreciate how gorgeous Derek really was. He could see every fleck of caramel brown in Derek’s stunning hazel eyes; even when they were angry they looked bright and animated. He could also see the 5 o’clock shadow that dusted Derek’s jaw and neck, Derek had probably woken up and came here without bothering to shave. The thought of it sent a thrill up Sties’ spine.

Stiles was holding his breath; not wanting to distract Derek’s steady concentration. His lips felt cracked and dry, though, so he licked his lips to wet them.

The movement caught Derek’s eyes and he tracked the movement of his tongue, following it all around the length of Stiles’ whole mouth, his bruised face momentarily forgotten. The look in Derek’s eyes was so intense that Stiles had to shudder in a breath; breaking Derek out of his stupor and causing him to step back abruptly and let out a tiny cough.

“Was this the punk I talked to on the phone?” he asked gruffly.

Stiles shook his head. “Nah, some kid named Sam? He said he knew someone or some shit in Deucalion’s gang.”

At the mention of the rival gang Derek whole body stiffened.

“Fuck,” he cursed. “You fight back?”

Stiles sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, head-butted him and knocked him down.”

Derek snorted. “That your go to move? The amount of times I’ve seen you, Isaac, or your younger brother doing that is just fuckin’ insane. Who the hell you learn that from?”

Stiles smirked. “Frank. He came in handy for once.”

Derek’s eyebrows drew up suddenly. “Hey,” he said sounding confused, “Laura said some shit about Frank bein’ the one who reported you guys to the CPS or some shit? That true.”  
Stiles nodded, looking uncomfortable. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, not looking at Derek. He didn’t want to see the pity look Derek was probably throwing his way right about now.  
There was an uncomfortable beat of silence before Derek started talking again. “You said this kid’s name is Sam? My brother’s and I will have a talk with whoever his friend is on Deucalion’s. That’ll get him to lay off, ‘specially if we rough him up a bit.”

Stiles gave Derek an incredulous look. “Are you kidding me?” he flailed his arms, “Why the fuck would you get involved in this?”  
Derek looked at him like he was crazy. “He beat you up!” he gestured to Stiles’ whole face, “Your eye is swollen as fuck, your nose looks fucked up, and this side of your face is practically all black and blue!”

“And why do you care?!” Stiles yelled back, feeling hot and uncomfortable at how much a fuss Derek was making.

“Because now you’re Hale property, whether you like it or not.” Derek snarled.

Stiles stopped, stunned. His mind went haywire; thousands of thoughts flitting through his head as he tried to process Derek’s statement. Here Derek was, telling him that he was connected in some way to the Hale gang, past the point of just being a neighbor. Stiles felt giddy and shocked at the same time, he couldn’t even really grasp what Derek was truly saying and implying.  
Derek himself looked taken aback; his eyes were wide and his brow was furrowed in what looked like confusion. He looked like he was startled at his own outburst.  
Stiles’ mouth was dry. “Um, a-alright? What should I do?” his voice sounded desperate.

The question seemed to shake Derek out of his stupor. “Just-just lay low. We’ll figure all of this out.” And with that he turned to walk away.

Stiles turned around so he wouldn’t be caught watching Derek leave, instead pretending to sweep as he did before.

“Take care of yourself, Stiles.” He heard Derek call out before the jingling of the bells over the door signaled he left.  
Stiles traced his face where Derek had touched, feeling warmth spreading through his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so this is where the story takes off! Now I can get to really writing the juicy bits haha. Anyway, please leave comments and kudos, they always motivate me to get the chapters out quicker!


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